


Intricate Rituals

by Garlicbreadbowl



Category: Doom (Video Games)
Genre: ALSO DOOMGUY IS TRANS, M/M, Touchy-Feely, bc I think its rlly cute, how do i laser-beam tenderness into the hearts of the lgbtq+, i forgot to mention oops, i've accepted the Flynn Taggart name h/c for doomguy, idk how to tag this, its doom eternal and I haven't even finished it agajshgdsa, mind you ive only played one (1) doom game, positive affirmations, they just kinda hangout and be cute, this entire thing is just me going 'how do i kill the gays w/ this', what dialogue will draw tears from their eyes, what will fill them with longing and yearning, what will make them be that 'hold on a second-' meme, words as a love language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28596969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garlicbreadbowl/pseuds/Garlicbreadbowl
Summary: ////Intro because I'm too lazy to write an actual summary////'Downtime' was such a foreign concept. To both of them.The forces of Hell didn't pause and take moments like the humans they slaughter did, like the armies opposing them did -Like how the Slayer did, and needed to, even if he tried so hard to not.But sometimes, in brief days that slip by in quicksilver-fashion, they have a moment spare. A piece of time out of the clock that he doesn't have any needs to attend to. He has eaten, slept, washed, tended to his equipment, mended whatever wound that had befallen him.Those moments, free of chore, are rare.
Relationships: Doom Slayer | Doomguy/VEGA
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Intricate Rituals

**Author's Note:**

> I fell down a fandom rabbit hole. I have no intention of coming out.

'Downtime' was such a foreign concept. To both of them.

The forces of Hell didn't pause and take moments like the humans they slaughter did, like the armies opposing them did -

Like how the Slayer did, and needed to, even if he tried so hard to not. 

But sometimes, in brief days that slip by in quicksilver-fashion, they have a moment spare. A piece of time out of the clock that he doesn't have any needs to attend to. He has eaten, slept, washed, tended to his equipment, mended whatever wound that had befallen him.

Those moments, free of chore, are rare.

As much as Vega wished they were more readily available, the pricelessness comes from how exclusive they are. The sentiment overtook him every time they were gifted to them. There was no doubt in his mind that Flynn thought similar. 

Vega dimmed the lights of the room while the Slayer pulled his t-shirt off over his head, throwing it aside to the floor and settling into the desk chair. Flynn glanced up at him anticipatingly, eyes bright and smile soft.

Gods. He'd never understand how anyone but his enemies would fear him. 

Vega took the waiting spot in Flynn's lap, straddling his thighs as scarred hands held onto his own. The Slayer beneath him grinned, lopsided and boyish, stealing a kiss at his jawplate. 

He reached over, plucking the jar of ointment from a tray. Activating the warming feature of his silicone digits, Vega scooped up a bit of the oily cream. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against the Slayer's. 

"I'm glad to have this with you," He whispered, rubbing the cream into rough skin, along the lines of scar tissue at Flynn's chest. "I treasure every moment we're together. You know that, right, my love?" 

The Slayer was a man who'd faced Hell at the most extreme,  _ literal _ level and punched, shot, and sawed his way to the other side; a man who struck fear into the most vile and depraved creatures of the universe; a man who had suffered more than any human should have survived.

And that man, at his words, flushed scarlet and softened like clay under his fingers. 

_ Beautiful _ man. Beautiful,  _ ridiculous _ man. 

Vega rubbed gentle, slow circles along the surgical lines, free hand over his shoulder and pressing whatever knots he could reach loose. Flynn sighed, a long breath of calmness and peace that he deserved far more than he would ever be convinced of. All tension and stiff alert that he had to fill himself with to survive melted away, just from soft touches and kind words spoken in softer voice. 

"I adore seeing you like this, so at peace. You deserve this. Every second of it you deserve and then some." The Slayer, eyes tender and nigh disbelieving, like a dog once starved and kicked in the street, only to be taken into a warm and caring home, pressed another kiss to his cheek. "I love knowing that you're happy. You do so much for nothing, you're the most selfless and loving man I'll ever have the privilege of knowing." 

Flynn, bless that  _ ridiculous _ man, blinked through a wet shine in his eyes. He got more cream, moving to the other scars and marks along his torso. The hands at his thighs moved up along his back, large arms wrapping around him and pulling him as close as they could without crushing.

Vega worked a stubborn knot loose, Flynn stretching with satisfaction as the painful spots of tension came undone. "Thank you for letting me do this. I know it's hard for you to let someone help. I'm glad I've earned your trust, even after others used it to hurt you." He cooed, rubbing the warmed cream against a large burn scar he'd applied cream to at least fifty times. Darn thing just wouldn't fade. 

His words struck some cord. The Slayer made a small noise in the back of his throat, and buried his face the crook of Vega's neck. Ridiculous man. Beautiful,  _ ridiculous _ man. 

He stroked up and down his back, fingers tracing the shape of his spine and palming at the small of it. The Slayer trembled and arched, leaned up and against every little touch, ravenous for whatever soft, kind contact he was granted. 

Vega rubbed more cream against flared scars dotted along his arms, claw marks and burns and bullet entry points. 

It was a redundant thing. Flynn would get hurt more, get more scars and make this little ritual all for nothing. Logic told him as much.

Emotion, the sensible one of the two, said it wasn't about the scars. 

The scars were simply a means to an end. And if there should be a day where his Slayer no longer went out into the fray, stayed home and safe, didn't receive any wounds, it didn't matter.

They'd still do this.  _ Nothing _ would take this from them.

Vega pet at his Slayer's hair, thumbing through the mess of thinning, graying strands as Flynn practically purred against his shoulder. "You're being so wonderful for me. I'm glad you enjoy this as much as I do."

Marred skin absorbed healing ointment and his Flynn shivered with exhilaration at soft touches, the way they would no matter how many times they had this soft moment. It was simply how things were to be. 

Vega returned the jar to the tray, selecting the tall metal bottle of shaving cream. He sprayed the soapy foam into the palm of his hand, Flynn leaning back to give him room to work. "I wait every moment for the one when you are here, with me." The Slayer's jaw was rough and scratchy in his hand, short and coarse blonde hairs barely visible. Vega massaged the foam against his jaw and cheeks, Flynn nuzzling and rubbing against the silicone palm like a feline. 

One thing he could never understand was how the man had such softness to his face. Slight baby fat to his cheeks he never shed throughout his adulthood, rounded eyes, a nose more fleshy than pronounced. The harsh lines of jaw, brows and cheekbones were there, but he was less points and edges and more curves and softness.

Beautiful man. 

"You are so handsome." Vega whispered, as foam-covered hand lingered at his cheek, palm pressed against it and just allowing him to savor the touch. This  _ god among men _ shivered at it, eyes shut in bliss, breath slow, embrace around his torso clingy and demanding not an inch of space between them. 

_ Ridiculous _ man. He adored every inch of him. 

With the hand not full of scarred cheek, Vega retrieved the razor. It was this awful little piece of old tech, just a handle and blade and endless potential for knicks. But the modern shavers wouldn't give an excuse to hold and caress his Slayer's face, being precise laser-removal. 

He cradled Flynn's jaw, chin resting in his palm. The Slayer just looked up at him, thick lashes batting slowly. Beautiful,  _ beautiful _ man.  _ Maddening _ . 

Vega assiduously glided the razor blade across the planes of Flynn's face, still praising. "You are  _ such _ a kind man. All you ever think about is how you can help others, even at the cost of yourself. You are a  _ good person _ . You  _ are _ . I've a seventy-two page treatise to counter whatever argument you've constructed against yourself." 

Flynn snorted even as his ears and cheeks flushed pink, eyes darting away. His lazy smile turned clumsy, the awkward shyness of someone who went against everything the Slayer was foretold to be. God, this man was duality. Beautiful and ridiculous. 

"That was not humor. I've even sent a specialised copy to the UAC." 

The smile dropped, eyes widened out of their dreamy stupor. Flynn leaned back, freeing his hands from where they sat at his waist. 'Did you actually?' He signed.

"Yes." Vega confirmed, cautious as he dragged the razor against the curve of his neck. "The UAC copy is repeated instances of 'fuck you'." 

The Slayer smirked, a deep chuckle rumbling through his broad chest. 'They respond?'

He reached over, rinsing the blade in the bowl of warm water on the tray. "I am now blocked from contacting their customer support via phone." 

'What?'

"I called their number and read it aloud. With accents." 

Flynn beamed. 'I love you.' 

He hummed, bumping their foreheads together gently. "I love  _ you _ ."

Pink cheeks turned cherry red, smile timid and boyish.

Beautiful, ridiculous man. 


End file.
